The Moment
by toomanypickles
Summary: And how it changed this life.
1. A word

If there is a word somewhere, someplace, to describe the moment, she does not know it. She writes about it, on a small scrap of paper she hides under her pillow, but she can't find the right word. The scrap is blackened with words on both sides, words crowded together, overlapping awkwardly, hardly even legible anymore. Not that that matters.

What matters is the moment tucked away underneath her head while she sleeps. She wrote it down so as not to forget, and hid it so no one could find it. This sentiment, whatever it is, would be seen as a sign of weakness by many. She wonders, what would he think of it? And she wonders, does she even care what he thinks anymore? Has she gotten past caring what everyone thinks, finally?

But no, she hasn't. She knows she hasn't. And this moment is so precious to her. As precious as it is embarrassing. So she slips her hand under her pillow and clings to it. This scrap of paper, this ugly object that is not an object. It is no longer a physical thing, is it? It's become so much more. That moment. It lasted only seconds, and yet she felt her world flipped around because of it. How could seconds have such an effect?

She feels sick to her stomach, worrying. She feels butterflies beating to be free from her chest, from inside her body. She feels them everywhere. She can hear one in her ear, smaller than all the rest. She can hear the whisper of its wings. 'You are free like us. Come fly.'

She smiles a little into her pillow. And she is bravely fighting back tears. Or maybe it's not so brave. But she knows anyway, it happened. It happened and all she really needs to do know, wants to do now, is define it somehow.

She can't sleep, thinking about it. And she doesn't feel she really wants to sleep. She knows that the word exists, maybe once she even knew it, in a moment of beautiful clarity. If she is quiet, if she lies still long enough it will come to her of its own accord. She doesn't need to force it. There is all the world still to come.

Because of that moment.


	2. If only

But she doesn't know how to act anymore. She has never been comfortable around him, never really been sure how to act, but at least they had a sort of routine. How could she have broken out of it so completely, so quickly, so easily?

Of course, he doesn't seem to notice. Except he does. She always used to feel invisible, even to her own team members. She doesn't feel invisible anymore, not around him. She sees him now, with her all seeing eyes she sees him watching her. Just that.

She can tell he sees her now, but all seeing eyes just can't see human emotions. She can't see his thoughts, and that makes her even more nervous. She stutters uncontrollably, when she can find her voice that is.

For some reason he keeps smiling at her, and she can see no reason for it. It's not even a smile, is it? When a dog smiles, is it really a smile? It's that way for him. He smiles as though he sees something new about her, something she doesn't see herself. There is nothing funny about her, is there? He's not laughing at her, is he?

If only she knew what he was thinking, if only she could see what he finds so funny. Maybe she could laugh with him too.

Could she do that now? Now that she's broken the routine?

Because he doesn't see this new nervousness she feels. He doesn't see what he is doing to her, by acting as though nothing is different, but smiling all the same. He doesn't see that.

She can't stand it anymore. She decides. She's gone so far already, why not go one step further?

"Why do you smile at me like that?" she asks. She has rehearsed the words so many times in her head she can say them without stuttering. If only her voice was as strong as she had imagined in her mind. If only these words came out clearly, the way she wants them to sound.

"Because I feel like I know you better now. Like I know a bit more of the real you you keep hidden from everyone." He smiles again, crookedly, but it's not the same. It's not the same because she knows he's not a liar, and now she knows why he smiles.

If only she knew why she smiles back.


	3. The moment

**The third and final (I think) bit of the story. Ahh, now it all makes sense, right?

* * *

**

She wasn't thinking.

Normally she would simply fall forward with him, pretend she hadn't heard him coming. Let him have his fun because it did herno harm.

But she wasn't thinking.

She rolled with him, and ended up on top, with a knife to his throat. She could have killed him then, maybe. She was ready to, if it had come to that. But why would it? That was her instincts telling her that, it was her instincts that made her pull her knife out.

He licked his lips, smiled a little. She though, for a split second, that it had better be out of nervousness. Then she realized who she was, and who she had pinned to the ground.

She blinked, startled for a second. Akamaru was sitting on Kiba's shoulder, growling a little, but he was so used to her he wasn't worried. Kiba looked much more startled than his dog, and he was growling more audibly.

"Ah, K-Kiba! I'm sorry. I-I didn't know…" She got to her feet and put her kunai away. "I thought you were, um… I'm sorry."

He got to his feet with more energy, but less grace. "Hey, no problem. Maybe you're not so useless after all!" He slapped her shoulder and ran off, yelling over his shoulder, "Later!"

She stood in the street, watching his retreating back. Her cheeks were bright red she knew, and people walking past were looking at her. But she felt something inside. It felt almost like happiness, some sort of warmth. Pride maybe? She felt as though she had wona battle.

She turned and walked back home slowly. That was… It was. The more she thought about it, the more she felt, and it wasn't all nice feelings like that glow that refused to go away.

When she reached her house she went to her room and sat on her bed, stared at the wall. She felt strange.

There, on her desk, there was a scrap of paper. She sat at her desk and started writing.


End file.
